#The amount of joy it brings me to see people get excited over something is unmatched actually

[antiquepearlss]

getting my mutuals’ fandoms mixed up like yeah I love Jinx from Mouthwashing

[jolalibrary]

1. butterscotch orange

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter one of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.3k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over <redacted>. frankie being a single!dad to a son. coffee date. an: it is finally here! this little thing has rotted me from the inside out and nothing brings me more joy than a romcom. so here we go. buckle in. all hail @secretelephanttattoo for the wondrous idea and support (seriously thank you, i know you know ily, but i don't think I've been this happy writing something in so long). a thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who i forced to read this when we had our sleepover, ily.

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics [winks]

IF I CAN DO IT, ANYONE CAN DO IT. ALL YOU NEED—

It rings, echoes through your skull.

Has been doing so the whole ride over—your groan doing nothing to dilute it, even as you kill the engine of your car and are welcomed with silence.

There’s an element of regret you feel thrumming in you since discovering that perky voice, her high-pitched excitement becoming the bane of your existence. Forever replaying in your head. Regardless of whether it is actually playing. It remains on a loop in your mind—all light and sweet—grating on you from the amount you’ve had to watch it, just to get to this stage.

Realistically, you know you shouldn’t hate the voice, because it has been helpful—in that effortlessly playful way that’s kind of begun to fuck you off.

But then, you’re not even sure if any voice would fare much better. Because you just don’t feel like it’s just that easy—so possible, all simple and quick to do.

Because DIY apparently isn't that trouble-free for you. The bandaids on your palm, fingers, and forearm are proof of it.

Yet, somehow you’re outside of a hardware store.

One that Google promises will have all you need and more. Not that you know what that is.

The only thing you do know is that it at least gives you another reason to focus on something other than the mountain of boxes that never end. The ones not unpacked. In the home that’s now only slowly beginning to feel more like yours, and not the people you purchased it from.

Eyes flicking over the front of the store, the clutter of things all left outside—in judging various shades of buckets and plastic garden chairs—before your eyes land on the door to Harold’s Hardware.

There’s no breeze, but the door moves ever so slightly. Sitting, slightly ajar, as though once—a long time ago—it fit in the frame perfectly, but now remained warped and unwilling to even try. Then there’s the glass, all smeared and sitting inside (what you assume) would have been a bright-white frame that’s slightly yellowed and has been adorned in scuffs, swinging in its layered overuse.

But, at least it’s visited, you think. Shoving open the door, a bell sounds in some distant corner, ringing, it almost muffled by the voice from the video continuing to play in the space between your ears—a to-do list, a handful of items required, listing themselves on a never-ending loop, the billionth play through since you’d woken up.

It’s so much bigger inside than you banked on. Jaw-ticking to the side, eyes marvelling at the floor-to-ceiling display and the array of things all living and existing under hanging signs that appear worn and peeling.

With each second, more and more of the charm comes to you.

That there’s a radio, crackling away, a song from decades gone by playing with difficulty, as an array of scents swirl, fighting themselves for your attention. But, two stand out, fresh-cut wood and lemon disinfectant. The latter you assume kills dirt but doesn’t make the floor tiles gleam in the way they once did. Scuff marks adorning well-walked paths. But the former, you gravitate more to, wish for it to fill your nose and remain with you long after your visit.

Adjusting the strap of your bag, you glance about again, almost fidgeting your feet in your shoes, before it dawns on you. Slams into you as you flick your gaze from sign to sign—

You haven’t got a clue about where to start.

Listing the things from memory—suddenly distant and difficult to find amongst the dooming overwhelm—as your feet begin moving of their own accord. Choosing an aisle, selecting it—all eeny-meeny-miny-mo.

Because better that, than standing aimless, lost. Watched on some flickering CCTV in the back where you assume the person who works here is.

Dragging your eyes, scanning them up and down, taking in the varying types of paint brushes, different thicknesses, different intentions. Moving from single purchase to grouped, to multi-packs, and landing finally on rollers before you’re turning, heading down an entirely different aisle.

The next isn’t any less overwhelming.

If anything, it’s more, because it’s at least more of what you needed.

Screws, bolts, fixings.

Your brain assessing, attempting to assemble whether a bolt is what you need, a screw or—

“You need a hand?”

It throws you off, the voice.

Cuts through your processing, through the low replays of the video (the ones only in your head) and the cracking radio which has moved into an advert for migraines.

It’s low, a slight gravel that he rids with a clear of his throat as you look over your shoulder, eyes sweeping over the owner of the voice, eventually turning to face him.

And fuck.

He’s broad, dressed in a deep green t-shirt under a tan apron—name badge scratched over, only leaving the lingering marks of a “here to help” and the fading logo you’d seen outside.

You don’t mean to gawk, but yet you do all the same.

Practically swallowing, attempting to whir your brain into gear as you take in the rest of him. The thick loose curls atop his head, the strong nose and the round-brown eyes. His moustache, the wiry facial hair across his chin he slowly begins to scrape at, as he remains waiting for a response.

“Screws.”

“You… you need screws?”

Nodding, you will your brain to work, to function. But, he’s just so—

Lifting his chin, he runs his thumb up and down the underside of his chin, waiting, waiting, until he smiles. “Do you know the kind?”

Think. Think. Fucking think.

And then you do. Somehow able to unspool some thoughts, find sentences. Beginning to explain, in barely-there pauses and animated hand gestures about your move, and your new lease of life, and this video you found and how you felt inspired by it to the point it had led you to order wood cut to size and tools from the internet, but screws, screws and this and that are all that you’d forgotten.

And, he listens. Sliding a hand over the sleeve of his sun-scorched tee as he does. Just nodding on occasion. Thin lines appear along his forehead at certain parts of the story, but nonetheless listening.

“Show me.”

“Show… you?”

Then he smiles. Soft, it slides up in a slow, almost cautious way, but then it’s at his eyes, touching, brushing itself there and sending sparks up into the darker brown flecks.

Licking his lips, he gestures, “The video.”

You do.

A quick shuffle in your pocket, a slide to unlock your phone and then your fingers are brushing his. They’re warm, his. That you can tell.

Heat radiating from them, slowly blanketing yours as his hand and yours cradle the phone like a newborn in an announcement photo.

From there, your chest tightens, more so when you meet his eyes, finding them watching you as intently as you wish to look at him, and it makes your heart stammer, skip—a full chaos of beats following before he’s holding your phone independently.

That’s when a new crisis calls. A new thought is all set to erode your mind.

Because your phone looks tiny in his hand.

The plastic case is almost dwarfed by him as he tips his chin, watching the video, occasionally tapping at the screen to skip ahead before he nods to himself, you all but busy trying not to choke on your own drool.

“I know what you need.”

“You do?”

A foolish question, all escaping without thought or rationale.

He just smiles, in a way that seems to settle your incoming anxiousness.

“I do.”

And he does.

A tilt of his head, his back turned to you, a brief thought crossing your brain at the sight but you quickly rid, and you’re following. Listening as he explains, as he points out things with his long, thick finger, as you nod, as though nothing lives in the space between both of your ears.

It isn’t until you’re back in your car that it hits you. Do you suddenly wish as your engine ignites and your car roars to life, that you had asked for his number—or better yet, his name.

It’s been days, and you’re still wondering if some part of you’d concocted him, made him up—thrown up an illusion of a man and exaggerated how good he looked.

The more you thought about him, the more insane it got. Even hearing yourself explain it to a friend made you question if you'd been dreaming. That maybe you’d let days mould him, shaping perfection in your consciousness.

It has more weight when you walk past the older man at the till, all white hair in a slick-back style and who tips his head and looks more what you’d expect from the decor of the place.

But a part, one fighting, scrapping for a moment to exist, still believes. Hopes.

Forcing your legs to wander down aisles you don’t need, pausing at each corner, desiring to be proven wrong. Hovering, hoping—half-wondering if it was essential that to make him appear, you had to look lost and hopeless—or whether that had just been a coincidence that first time.

With each up and down, you almost give up. Hope almost gone, erasing itself with each step, all but fading.

But there, in the centre of the paint aisle, speckled in dried flecks, it clinging in varying shades—a kaleidoscope dream on his jeans and worn t-shirt—is him. The man you haven't stopped thinking about.

"It's you."

"It's me," you grin, heat flooding your cheeks, growing up into your neck.

Arm lifting, hand brushing the back of his curls not housed in a cap, as he matches your grin. "New project?"

"Something like that."

His gaze doesn't waver, doesn't lessen, not as his grin slopes into a shy smile, before he wipes his hand on his jeans, offering it out. "Realised... I never... I'm Frankie, by the way."

You hand him your name, dropping an octave as you do—all unmeaning, entirely accidental—fingers sliding past his as you shake his hand.

“I don’t… you’ve not got your apron on.”

Glancing down, you find him grinning when he looks up, “Not my day today. Here on personal business.”

“Oh is…” squinting at the paint can in his hand, “Butterscotch Orange on a hit list or something?”

His lips slide into his cheek, a tooth-filled smirk. “Should be, it’s a right bitc—pain in the ass to sell.”

Rolling your lips, you trace your tongue across your teeth as you grin. “It’s no…” eyes squinting. “Mt Rainier Grey.”

His brow arches. “That your shade of choice?”

“I like it—don’t hate the orange though. So, maybe it’s not the paint, but the seller.”

Something twinkles in his eye, lips still cocked to one side, smirk still ever-present.

And it’s a challenge to drag your eyes to look at the floor, you shift your weight. Trying, and failing, to think of an excuse, to leave before it gets weird—before you become too much and ruin this nondescript thing. But, his throat clearing stops you. It forces your chin up. Barely just able to catch it, the whisper, how it’s almost said to the can in his hand than to you.

“You… doing anything right now?”

Shaking your head slowly, you bite your cheek as you grin. “Just talking to a man holding a paint can.”

Tapping his fingers along the top, lips rolling, “You fancy getting a coffee? With me?”

You have to bite your smile, out of fear you’ll show how practically beaming you are. Mouth opening, but he adds an addition of I don’t usually do this that makes your lips curl into a smirk.

“What? Invite random customers for coffee or accost them with paint you can’t sell?”

Biting his upper lip, he shakes his head, tucking a curl behind his ear as your eyes glance over at them. How they glisten under the yellow-fluorescent light.

Letting your heart dance like leaves in the wind. “I’d love to get coffee with you, Frankie.”

It’s nice, the coffee place.

Not a far walk, a few doors down. The charm of it coaxes you in with sounds of crunching beans and strong scents of varying levels of caffeine sliding over and relaxing your shoulders from your ears.

Because suddenly you’re nervous.

A slight shake to your bones, a twitch of your fingers.

“Let me get this.”

Smiling, you find him watching you, not caring to drag his eyes away when you catch him.

“Because you never do this or because you’re hoping to persuade me to buy your unsellable paint?”

Smirking, he traces his eyes over you, “Both.”

The corner of his mouth slides back into his cheek, a dimple appearing, deepening—one you want to brush over with your thumb the longer he keeps looking at you the way he does.

All dark eyes, beedy, but sparkling.

'Who's next?' breaks the spell. Shatters the magic. It forces you both to blink, to focus on the task at hand. Both orders said, whirring and crunching sounding as you admire the place, glaze over the menu until he’s nudging you.

With your order in hand and tucked away in the corner—the large window letting in light and warmth from the sun on your back—you try not to moan at the taste of your drink once it hits your tongue.

Because it’s good. Brilliant, practically everything.

To the point you have to bite back a thank you, one that you feel would be never-ending, a constant swirl of words landing on the circular table between the two of you. Nothing napkins and good conversation could soak up.

Because good coffee is always great, but knowing where to find it in an unknown place is something else.

Distantly, you hear him say your name, chin dipped, eyes focused, realising—in a flood of embarrassment—he’s been talking to you.

“Sorry?”

“I said, I’ve not seen you in the store before…”

Swallowing, you take a steadying breath.

“You don’t have to…”

But, you do all the same. You pour open small bits of truth, words falling, tumbling half-strung together as your history rolls out in a timeline in front of you both. How you’d bought a new place, that it’s a bit run down, seen better days—a determination to prove friends wrong by doing it yourself.

Foolish, you comment with a shake of your head, I know fuck all about decorating.

And he listens—to the fact you’re alone, not even a pet; he listens even as you talk about your work, all boring, not entirely interesting. The two of you simply lost in one another, surrounded by coffee mug swirls and the sounds of sizzling food, coffee shop noises and mumbling daytime talk as you ask him about work, about his love for orange shades.

And your eyes glance down at his phone, how it’s turned over—his all undivided attention given to you—yet your eyes linger on the phone case. The one with a drawing, likely in pencil, a man in a hat on a hill, a child next to him and a sun with a smile on its face.

“I… I have a kid. Luca—shared custody,” he says, nodding, tongue peeking out between his teeth, hands leaving the table and wiping back on his jeans in slow slides up and down. “He… he made it me.”

It’s the grin that makes your heart swell.

Makes your hand cup your mug a little tighter so you don’t offer it out to him to hold, a thing which feels so natural, no thought required. Except you don’t know his last name—barely know a thing about him.

Yet, your body practically leans forward as you mirror the smile—all soft, as another piece of a missing puzzle sliding into place.

“Does he like drawing?”

Laughing, his palm slides along his jaw. “Loves it.”

“How old?”

“Five—does that… does that bother you?”

“That you’re a dad?” He nods, and you lick your lips, you make sure to hold his gaze. “Not in the slightest.”

You smile, watching him mirror you this time. It rushes out, kissing across every bit of his face—a shyness soon fluttering over him before he clears his throat.

“So, you freelance? You like being your own boss?”

“Not especially, but it does mean I can work at night.”

Nodding, he slides his hand around the white porcelain, hand practically dwarfing the mug. It makes you want to ask him to hold things, to see if IKEA pencils or children’s eating utensils look more ridiculous than your iPhone and a regular coffee mug.

“Prefer the night?”

“I prefer the quiet of it... to think. It’s why… why I began trying to do something in the day, needed to still be busy.”

“Sitting still not an option, Rainier Grey?”

Shrugging, you smile. “Says you Butterscotch and your three tins of unsellable paint in the bed of your truck.”

“You got me there.”

“I just… like to be busy, and with the new house, no partner—commitments, I thought why not try a bit of DIY.”

Nodding, he lifts his mug, and takes a sip—eyes remaining fixed on you as he does, as though it buys him time, lets him think up an opinion, an assessment. It makes your skin warm, but for all the uncomfortable reasons, the panicking ones—parts of you beginning to catastrophise that you’ve said the wrong thing.

“Open up your Instagram.”

You stare, blinking.

“Trust me.”

And you do. With another fumble, another slide of your phone screen open, and you follow his instructions as you type in the spelling he gives you. When you click the page, it’s hard not to grin, to not have your face explode into a smile so large it cuts into your cheeks.

“I don’t like to sit still either,” Frankie adds, as though the thousand photos and videos, the tutorials and follower count don’t say that on their own.

You’ve fallen down a hole—willingly.

It cracked open the moment you’d sat on your couch, drink in hand, blanket half over your body.

The moment you’d begun your scroll, you discovered you couldn’t stop. Starting with the latest and moving back, until you realise you’d rather see the story in the way it happened.

Choosing a moment, almost nine months ago, before you work your way forward to the present.

You were cautious, more careful than needed, to not like anything too late—to not give away how deep into his page you’d gone. Even if you were in awe, a little proud—your cheeks a little warm and lips turned up into your cheek—as you saw in real-time his confidence grow. The way he’d look at the camera, began experimenting with angles, all in all being smoother, more happy.

You suppose that’s why you type a comment under one picture:

Is that butterscotch orange in the flesh? 🟠

Stalking me are you?

Getting some tips from Mr DIY himself.

I know you went back some months, Rainy.

How do you know that?

Because as soon as you commented that’s what I did. You looked nice at the beach.

Now who’s the stalker, Butterscotch.

Me. Clearly. I’m being very upfront about it.

Out of interest, do you tutor at all? Give hands on help to beginner DIYers?

You genuinely asking or flirting?

Big-headed much?

I can help you with something if you need it.

I think I do.

Then I’m yours. Don’t worry, I promise to only snoop in your drawers when left alone.

Think we should get food first, show you what I’m thinking—make sure you’re up to the task.

You asking me on a date?

No. But if you keep showing off tools topless I’ll be tempted to ask you.

Knew you’d gone back further than a month.

FRANKIE’S INSTAGRAM 🌝

NEXT CHAPTER

an: you do not understand how giddy i am about this series. the chapters have flown out of me. i hope you enjoy it half as much as i'm enjoying writing it. see you soon xx

[wachtelspinat]

hi i know this doesn’t matter because your post was about a lot more than just drawing the same characters for like four years, but i just wanted to let you know that i have never ever cared about overwatch, and i never will, and the only reason i know who rat and hog are is because i found your art like tree or four years ago and fell in LOVE with the way you drew them. i have only ever cared about your design choices, your headcanons and they way they interact with each other through you. these are your characters, and i hope that even if you feel lost or empty or like you missed something for spending so much of your time with these characters that “no one cares about anymore” and that the source material sucks for, you can feel proud for all the joy your art brings people. i’m not in the fandom, and i understand it can be very lonely, but i get so excited every time i see that you’ve posted and i cherish every drawing and every sketch. i love these guys, and i have only ever seen them through your eyes

man this matters SO MUCH. like you have no idea ! i'm sitting here, thinking about how to express my thought but i'm having a damn hard time doing so because you absolutely reset my brain.

like i actually have no words. like i want to say thank you so much but that just doesn't cover it all, that's not enough ! if you'd be cool with it and physically here i'd hug you. now i can just say thank you all over again because oh man i know it seems so trivial but it's not, it really is not. these idiots mean so much. like their very existence and the sheer amount of absolutely amazing fanworks i've seen and esp. read from 2016 to now got me through a time that was so fucked up. and it is just unbelievable to read that apparently i gave sth back. and idk that's exactly why i don't wanna be done with drawing. i don't feel like i've shown enough, i've not paid the bill, there is still so much love to give back.

thank you T_t

[genshinconfessions]

Honest to god, the more I see people behaving like actual monsters or children throwing a temper tantrum over characters not having skin as black as the abyss the more I flat out just do not have the capacity to care. I get it sucks that the characters aren't being diverse enough, I get it, but throwing death threats, slurs and god knows what else at the devs while behaving like spoiled rotten brats just makes me not care to any degree. If people can't behave like ACTUAL ADULTS and genuinely have polite points to say other than "Time to attack the devs again/slander the VAs or whoever for agreeing to go with this" whenever a character isn't dark skinned, they have no one to blame but themselves if the devs elect to not listen to what basically amounts to spoiled two year olds not getting what they want. I genuinely feel bad for people who want more diversity but are less hateful and end up being lumped in with the assholes who think threatening the devs lives is a okay, and I also feel bad for anyone genuinely excited about the Natlan characters getting absolutely harassed and ripped to shreds for not "thinking they're ugly for not being dark enough". I feel like if the fan base were ALOT LESS VITRIOLIC about the issue of diversity the devs would likely listen more. But as it stands now I can't wait for the harassing and death threats being thrown around to die down again so I can actually browse genshin twit and tumblr again in peace without having to worry about running into anyone being genuine human trash towards the devs over the color of fucking pixels. I've got enough stressing me out like grieving the loss of a parent, I don't need people being assholes to add to it and it sickens me that they don't see anything wrong with how they're acting. I'm just. I'm tired and wish people could be less like bullies or arseholes for once over a silly little gacha game they claim to love yet act like this. Sorry for this being a long confession, I just needed to get this off my chest cause it's been bugging me and stressing me out so much since the Natlan teaser got released whenever I've gone to look at Genshin stuff practically everywhere lately.....

i'm very sorry for your loss :( and if it will help you feel less alone, i generally agree with your sentiments.

for me, i am a pretty staunch hoyo defender (evident in previous posts when we used to comment on asks more frequently), but i must admit, i was slightly disappointed in the natlan characters since i believed the fan edits with darker skin did look better, and i wished hoyo would have listened to the intl fandom regarding south american/african/indigenous poc things.

that said, it's never okay to send death threats to anyone for any reason. i'm sure the devs are a lot less willing to make changes if all they're getting is death threats and, like you said, vitriolic hate. constructive criticism helps ppl realize where they're wrong and how to fix it; unconstructive criticism is generally useless and tends to be ignored.

the societal issue of colorism runs very, very deep, both in asia and generally around the world. it's not something that hoyo can fix singlehandedly by changing some characters. granted, i'm sure it would set a very good example for future game devs, and it would be really great if they did listen to intl feedback! but if they choose not to, that's not smth we can change their minds about.

side note, regarding a lot of the 'natlan is colonized' comments, we don't know the story yet. it's possible that hoyo will address it as social commentary, or it might be something totally different. leaks and the search for instant gratification have really made it difficult for people to enjoy a drawn-out storyline, and that's really sad.

we've said this a lot on this page but i'll say it again: why spend so much energy hating fictional media? if it no longer brings you joy for whatever reason (i.e. you dislike the natlan characters), stop playing. if the fandom is the main source of negativity, stop engaging with the fandom, block users and tags, curate your own experience. if you claim to hate everything about it but continue to engage with it, that's quite hypocritical and unconvincing.

in any case, if you like the game well enough to keep playing, keep playing. you don't need to justify your reasoning to anyone, and you definitely don't need to fall into a trap of radicalized (and dare i say often performative) social justice.

[bitchslapblastoids]

Can I ask how much you talk to your partner about Dan and Phil and how do you talk about them? As someone who is not/has not been in a serious relationship, I find it hard to imagine how I would talk to someone about this, given my level of obsession. I don’t even really talk to friends about it. Like, do you talk about fic? Do you show your partner their videos? How did/will you bring up Iceland?

You don’t have to answer this if it’s too personal- totally get it! I’m honestly just so curious when I see phannies talk about their partners who aren’t also phannies.

Hi I actually really love this question bc it’s def something I think about fairly often, bc the tension is real. I am openly thirsting over these men, I have a real life partner, I share a life with him, but I also spend like a third of my life online thinking about the lives of these two dudes….it’s a thing. Just a heads up, my answer got really long.

My partner pretty fundamentally doesn’t get Dan and Phil’s whole thing, so I don’t show him vids or talk much about specific goings-on in the d&p landscape, bc it’s just a bummer to try and articulate or share something knowing it ain’t gonna land, lol. Even trying to explain the tour each time I came home from it all giddy made me feel like language was a hindrance and an impossible barrier to surmount. It’s just so hard to explain d&p’s brilliance when you don’t have some basis of common knowledge to draw on. It’s also hard to make someone else get the inherent appeal of two people’s chemistry and connection if they aren’t inclined to gaf about that kind of thing.

But he does know pretty much the full extent of my whole thing going on here lol. He’s seen my blog, sometimes I show him a post if I’m particularly proud of it/think it’s especially funny, I’ll talk to him about mutuals I’m chatting with sometimes or things happening on here that are specific to and exciting for me…basically I’m deeply uncool about it all. And yeah he knows about my fic (he hasn’t read any and I hope to god he never will, but i talk to him about broad strokes of plot in my longer fics, and he knows i write smut as well). I’m around him all the time when im writing so it’d be a pretty massive thing to hide, plus the process of writing/publishing Bowl of Oranges and its reception was sooooooo meaningful and giddying for me, so it was kind of all I could talk about for a bit there. He was/is wonderfully supportive and is happy that I’m writing and putting stuff out there.

i talked to him about Iceland the other week when i was close to impulse buying a ticket after the tysons shows, and he was down! If i follow through with booking a flight and hotel, he would come (not to TIT just to Iceland) and we’d just make a mini trip out of it. He’s used to me spending dumb amounts on concerts and we’re still fairly independent with our finances, so the money stuff isn’t an issue.

We’ve known each other for so so so long so he really understands my obsessive personality. We’re both quite strange and atypical in our own ways and I think have learned how to grow around eachother’s oddities and be patient and curious with one another rather than judgmental.

There are times I worry about my screen time and that I’m becoming too entrenched in fandom world at the expense of physical world, and i think at times I can neglect nurturing my relationship with him/all kinds of other components of life, bc the dopamine of phannie tumblr is a powerful fucking drug. So i try and be mindful of that. Definitely something im still working on.

To be completely honest about another tricky thing - I have definitely gotten stuck in a comparison trap before, of wishing that my connection and communication with my partner was as inherently easy and joyful and silly and immediate and Dan and Phil’s seems to be. My partner and I have many different interests, so while there are tons of things we connect over, there are also tons of things we can’t really share in the joy of experiencing with one another, and sometimes I’ve held Dan and Phil up as this paragon of love in comparison, feeling salty that I didn’t have what they have. I’ve gotten over that though, bc it’s definitely on the harmful side of parasocial; we only see some of their time and lives and they obviously have differences and disagreements too, and differences are good. And to be frank, will I ever have what they have? Of course not. I do think it’s pretty remarkable and special and I think most people in life won’t. And that’s ok because I also feel deeply fortunate to be with the person I’m with and I choose him year after year.

To touch on an elephant in the room - telling him I write smut fic was the thing I put off the longest bc I was scared/embarassed/felt kind of guilty about it all. And then I did and it was literally so fine. Idk, he’s great and I’m very lucky. I do have to be rly mindful of how the fantasy of it can impact my sexual desire. I spend a fair amount of time thinking about Dan and Phil’s life and relationship and, let’s be honest, sex life, and so shaking myself out of that and remembering to be embodied in myself and my relationship and my sexual partner can be a challenge. This feels weird and pretty vulnerable to talk about on here bc it kind of lays bare how you really can’t just compartmentalize this shit to one tidy section of your time and brain. but I can’t imagine other people don’t also find themselves in a similar position.

In sum, I do have a hard time with balance in life, and this is all something i think I’ll always be working on finding better balance with. But it’s not hurting anyone, it’s not rly hurting me, and it’s brought a lot of joy and creativity and connection to my life, so I try not to be hard on myself about it! I’m also deeply fortunate to have a partner who gets me and accepts me and is wholly nonjudgmental.

I’d rather die than anyone else in my life see this blog though. I have a couple friends who know I write fic and have a tumblr, but only the ones who I know are also into fandoms of their own and therefore get it. I’d reeeeeeally rather die than anyone I know irl see my ao3 that’d truly be the end. 🙃🙃🙃

Ok thank you for the question clearly I have a lot to say!!!!!

[majorproblems77]

Recalled update! So I am here to yell about it for 30 minutes thanks :)

*Scrambling to escape the void that has consumed me over the last few weeks.*

HI, ITS ME

Okay, so we've got a recalled update! Im very excited and have been pouring over this update for a while.

Uni is consuming my life haha.

they are headed towards the castle while having some very important discussions. Mainly, what on earth do we call you all. (Which in its own right I find amusing haha. )

Okay, time for the important things! Recalled and all panels belong to @recalled11��and its wonderful artist @l3ominor. Go check it out!

You can find the comic page here!

Now lets get started because if i dont scream about my blorbo in approximately 5 seconds I'm gonna die

I love group photos of any Calabar, it's awesome to see them all together. And watching fabrics flow is detail that I am obsessed with thank you.

ALSO HIS WIFE AHHHHHHH I LOVE THEM

Its the blorbo, look at hims.

Also i love how chill he is about this. Like, 'oh more problems? Awesome, I needed something to do today' kind of vibe I love it.

Sky's walking stick! I love how inclusive of all sorts of things this AU is i thoroughly enjoy it. He gives me the I can kill you with this walking stick, but also have you met my wife vibes and i love him.

Time and Malon running off like this brings me great joy i love them.

And, sky. Are we talking about your journey or something else cause that's pretty ominous there. foreshadowing? Are we gonna get more about the past of these heroes at one point I'd love to know more about them.

It is a massive Hyrule, espically when you think about just how long it takes to get across each of them in-game. Wild's game it actually takes so long to get across even just Hyrule field.

Time please step back from the edge you're giving me anxiety.

Also backgrounds my beloved. Beautiful i love them.

PFFFFFFT

OMG

When i tell you i was laughing at this for a few minutes i mean it oh my god this is wonderful.

And Malon?! OMG

I find this so damn funny. Its wonderful.

Im so glad everyone is confused it makes this 10x funnier.

(You think when they get to know each other better he'll let Sky/Sun have a go? I would love to see that so much.)

Also seeing Wild smile, Like really smile. The boy deserves the world.

Im glad he's having fun. Its also great to see Zonai tech being used after the events of the 2nd game like this.

Yes, let's step into the wooden box of who knows what together? It'll be fun! :D

Flower, you gotta remember that these people have never seen this sort of thing, please explain.

Like you're doing right now flower? Like you're doing right now?

Everyone is so trusting of this box. I love it.

Just gonna say how GENIUS this is? LIKE A LIFT USING ZONAI WHEELS

I LOVE IT

This tells a lot

Sky is just impressed, look at how happy he is. Wonderful bean

Sun is hanging out, (Is she holding his hand? Thats cute) :D

Captain the professional as always.

Malon and Time are the absolute chaos of the group. Just look at them, Time has obviously never seen something like this and so him being the one who's like basically fallen over here makes so much sense.

Got me cackling again tho, I love this group of idiots a healthy amount.

Them <3

I was thinking about it tho... And the sailcloths they are identical. And we know they are married...

What if the sailcloths are a sign of marriage in this universe? Why else would they both have the same one, down to the blue outline on the edge that is closest to them. Like you give your lover a meaningful symbol to show your love for them, and in Sky's case he made a sailcloth for sun after she made the one he's wearing for him during the events of Skyward sword.

I think its the same one because his one looks significantly bigger than hers, which to me tells of a practical use as well as a decorative or symbolic piece. 332

Like im probably reading too much into this but then again. They are so cute that they would actually do that.

Captain pulling the absolute shenanigans of a group back on track. He is the brain cell of the group you can't change my mind.

HE CALLS HER SUNSHINE AHHHHHH

I LOVE THEM

THESE TWO MEAN EVERYTHING TO ME

Why is everyone in this comic so damn adorable okay, these guys are just cinnamon rolls who saved the world.

Just look at Time's face? You can't tell me he isn't the most cinnamon of the rolls.

AWWWWWWWWW

Have I mentioned how much I love Captain? Cause he is just so chill, but also professional. Professionally chill? Sure.

I can see a stressful situation coming up, and he just is the stoic leader who gets everyone in line and ready to fight the threat.

And flower, Who is just so sweet. I can understand not wanting to be referred to as princess now that their Hyrule is like how it is. I'm surprised this hasn't come up sooner. But it's cute.

Oh the silent princess. How symbolic you are.

I know people are not really into the flower thing but I am, you think we will see some nightshade at one point?

The flower.

The 2 flower heads, one open, one closed, The blue into white. With the yellow detail. It's Flowers colour pallet to a T and I love it. Maybe as we progress through the story we will see pictures of the silent princess again but with a flowering bud or maybe if something bad happens a slightly sad looking one?

I am obsessed with symbolism, so if those become a thing watch this space cause I will be excited about it!

(In fact looking at it I think, the stem in the middle and the yellow on her clothes are colour-matched. A nice detail!)

Okay thats all from me! :D

Have a great day/Night!

[ironwoodprotectionsquad]

Recently I refound a screenshot I took with a post from Twitter that frustrated me and seeing @kitkatopinions post reminded me about it and I kind of sort of ish touched on it in my reblog but I realized it would be a king winding tangent and I should make me own post but the thing that started all of this was the point about so called “irredeemable” characters and the post in question was talking about how we all think Ruby WILL save Salem. Not might or maybe. Not defeat Salem but SAVE her and between that and the comment about irredeemable characters I have thoughts.

As you hopefully know I am not against redemption arcs. I like them a lot. One of my all time favorite arcs is Zuko’s redemption and his reunion with Iroh. It’s an amazing arc amazing storytelling brilliant. However what frustrated me about fans of the show excited to see Ruby “save” Salem is that these same fans insist that their are other characters who are “irredeemable” and that is it “wrong” to even write fanfics that redeem them. And it continually blows my mind that fans can insist that no matter what Salem, the woman who wants to end the entire world and has killed at least thousands and possible more, will be redeemed and in the same breath insist that despite her heinous and vile actions, her victims are somehow WORSE and no matter what CANNOT be saved.

How has the fndm deluded themselves into thinking that if Salem can be redeemed their are characters who are somehow off the table on the whole redemption thing. She has killed so many, manipulated used broken so many people. But somehow, this isn’t a problem for them. It’s not a deal breaker for them while things like robbing stores or making a morally gray decision in the middle of a nightmare scenario….is?

Like if we’re going to be setting hard lines on what makes a person redeemable vs not Salem should be considered someone in the irredeemable category. Especially if we’re going to pretend that characters like James, Adam and Torchwick are irredeemable the person whose done worse and on larger scale bad thing then them should also be cool spidered irredeemable. Her being a uwu sad woman doesn’t erase the horrific things she’s done and the harm she’s caused.

However, if RW/BY wants to be a hopepunk….then it doesn’t make sense for anyone to be considered irredeemable. As I’ve said, what’s more hopeful, you or a loved one forever being doomed to be evil once you make a mistake or knowing that their is hope and goodness inside someone, no matter how buried and hard to find it is, it’s still their if you’re willing to fight for it.

I would much rather have a Ruby who unapologetically declares “I know you think you’re too far gone. I know you think the darkness has swallowed you so deep their is no way the light can even find you. But you’re wrong. I’ll be your light. I’ll guide you out of the darkness and back into the light because I refuse to ever leave anyone behind.” Over one who says “well sorry you passed your amount of evil things you’re allowed to do before I abandon you so…sucks to be you pal you’re forever evil now.

Hopepunks are supposed to be stories that whole feel hopeless, refuse to give up on hope. They are determined to bring hope and joy to the hopeless. Hope in a hopepunk is even an act of rebellion. And what better world to have hope be rebellion then a world torn by war against what feels like and endless army of soulless monsters, where people are so desperate to survive they are willing to compromise their morals in the name of surviving. A world that have given up on kindness meaning anything. Let Ruby’s kindness be rebellion. Let her refusal to give up on hope and kindness show a world shrouded in darkness that they can still be kind and have hope.

One of my all time favorite redemption arcs is Zuko’s, and something about it I adore and gets me emotional every time is the reunion between Zuko and Iroh. At this point, Zuko is sure his uncle can’t and won’t ever forgive him and he’s certain that it’s what he deserves but he still feels he at least owes him an apology so he does. But instead of being angry and rejecting Zuko, Iroh hugs him, he loves him and assures him that he wasn’t angry, just sad he lost his way. And he was so grateful and happy that he found his way again. Imagine a Ruby like that who doesn’t hate those who’ve lost their way, who only wants to help them find their way back if they do get lost. Yes I’m channeling a fair bit of Iroh and Sora in my discussion of how I want Ruby to be but they are such perfect examples of what the show teased us Ruby would be like.

And no, it would not be weak or childish or whatever other insult you want to throw at her for Ruby to be like this. Maybe naive but….isn’t Ruby holding onto her ideals in the face of adversity so much better though? Her seeing the unthinkable and surviving a living nightmare but still having hope and still showing kindness is so powerful. Her offering forgiveness to those who hurt her because she believes in a United world and wants to be the change she so desperately wants to see. We where teased at this Ruby but it just didn’t happen.

The fndms insistence that certain characters aren’t deserving of redemption only serves to weaken Ruby as this simple soul who will save the world. A simple soul doesn’t arbitrarily decide who can be saved and who can’t. They don’t abandon people who need them the most. They just unapologetically help people. They show kindness and compassion to everyone around them. That is the kind of character RW/BY promised with Ruby, not this person who abandons people when it gets hard or who runs away crying and waiting for the solution to just fall into her lap. And I don’t understand why the fndm insists the Ruby we have is even remotely as good as the Ruby we where promised.

Give me a Ruby who believes no one is ever too far gone. Give me a Ruby who truly and unapologetically fights for ever life.

[mistysblueboxstuff]

Hello, first of all, I’m really sorry for bothering you with this. I’m a person who other people consider an artist. I’ve made things all of my life with whatever tools I could get my hands on. My family was too poor to afford paper and pencils so I burned wood engravings with magnifying glasses. My handwriting is tiny and precise because I loved writing but had to squeeze every inch of space out of a page. Over the years I’ve done a lot of other things that caught my interest, including sculpture, 3D modeling, modding, making dolls, decoupage, graphic design, oils, watercolor, lots of stuff. I won awards, got into some magazines. People paid unreasonable amounts for my stuff. I even spent two years in college majoring in drawing and painting before admitting to myself that I hated the process and though I had some technical skill, I wasn’t a real artist and didn’t have the inspired creative spark real artists had. I was okay with that; I don’t want to express myself.  I’ve always made things because I wanted to learn things and see something I wouldn’t have been able to see otherwise. 

I’ve always thought of myself as someone respectful of artists. I’ve spent so much on commissions that I don't have a savings account. I’ve always paid artists as well as I can afford and sometimes more if I thought their rates were low or if I knew they were putting extra work in on a piece. I’ve also bought a lot of fan made merch. Almost a thousand of that has been on prints you’ve made. I love your art.

I’ve been passionate about text and art AI for years. At first I was excited when the public became aware of my hobby and I thought that I’d finally be able to talk about it with people. Except, it turned out that everyone hates this thing I’m passionate about and would hate me if they knew I used it. I’ve had to hide it and keep it bottled up inside, away from the people I want to share it with. Everywhere I look, I see words like AI bro and AI clown and lazy and that people like me should just die.

I’ve heard all of the arguments for and against it. I do get why people are scared and discouraged and feel like they’ve had something taken from them. But I also know that I can't stop loving AI. I can't stop making things and learning new skills in things that interest me. That’s who I am. If I know anything about myself, it’s that.

I have one enormous print of yours of Aziraphale hanging over my bed. It has given me so much happiness for the past two years. I’ve felt love and beauty when I look at it. It’s been a source of comfort and joy. Having grown up lesbian in a religious household that thought I needed an exorcism, there’s something about seeing him turn his face away from God that resonates.

It’s been eating me up inside for weeks because every time I look at the picture above my bed, I don’t see Aziraphale any more. I don’t feel that love. I can only think about the person behind it that I respect and how they’ve said I should die, and the community behind them that I want to be part of but would hate me.

Am I the bad guy? The pain feels like a festering boil that needs to be lanced, so I guess I’d like to hear you say that what I’m doing is unforgivable so that I can take the picture down, grieve and move on. I know that's a lot for a stranger to ask of you. It's probably messed up that I'm even bringing this to you. I'm sorry.

Hiya. Thank you for messaging me. first I'd just like to say I don't think anyone should actually die. I know I say AI folks should die but it's something that I don't actually mean or want, I'm just angry. I don't like being told to "adapt or die". I don't appreciate AI folks saying I should "get on with the times and use the AI". I don't appreciate being told to "learn a new skill" by people who by all accounts have none themselves. I don't appreciate being told to "go work at McDonald's bozo". Being told to "get a real job". These are the things said to me personally, not just to artists in general.

Have you seen the vile things artists are being told by the AI tech bros? How we are being treated? They call us "drawslaves", "paint pigs", but at same time we're the "elite" keeping the poor masses away from their god given right to be able to make art without putting any effort into it.

We have every right to be angry and I'm really sorry me saying they should die has hurt you. I'm hurting too. I haven't been in the best place mentally and I won't go into details but this whole AI thing has only made it worse.

I don't think artists are just scared or discouraged, they're angry because their art is being stolen by this thing made to replace them. It really really hurts, I can't tell you how much. It's also infuriating. A lot of the time it makes me want to just stop making art because what's the point? It'll just get stolen and chopped up, bastardised into some AI monstrosity and soon I won't even be needed at all. I spent my whole life trying to figure out what to do with it, finding one thing i love and managing to make a living off it, only for it to be taken away from me by a machine. Might as well just stab me to death and get it over with. It would hurt less. One of the things that hurt me the most is when people question if my art is AI or not. I hate that I also question every piece of art I now encounter too.

Your story is inspiring and it sounds like you enjoyed making art, so what happened? I can't understand how any artist would actually feel accomplished by generating images via AI. I do understand it's fun and brings joy to people I guess. As for being a part of the art community I don't think most artists will ever accept AI folks as being a part of it. There is a huge AI community though, as I'm sure you know.

Personally I find it really difficult to look at AI images, for many reasons, seeing them treated as art pains me. It's why I left ArtStation and why I'm no longer active on DeviantArt either.

I don't think you specifically are the "bad guy". The bad guys are the people who are pushing for this thing to actually replace artists. The bad guys are the hedge fund billionaire man babies behind it. I do think people using AI are helping it get better at stealing though. The support the AI has been given by folks using it has made people behind it more aggressive as well.

But like I said many times before I don't hate AI specifically and if it stops stealing and starts being used more ethically then it's fine (sort of). But I think everyone knows the AI would be nothing without actual artists' work, that's why they're gonna fight for their "right" to keep stealing from us. Wonder who they gonna steal from when most of us abandon art because we'll have to do something else to survive and there won't be time for making art anymore.

I'm really sorry my stance on AI is making it difficult for you to enjoy my art though, I never really thought about that so thank you for making me consider your perspective on this. I'm happy my art has brought you joy. For what it's worth I don't hate you, I don't think using AI is unforgivable, I don't think you're a bad person for using AI and finding joy in it. But as an artist I will never support AI. AI stomps all over everything art stands for, to me at least. It's a travesty. It mocks everything I've been through as a person to get where i am now. There are so many artists i love and seeing their art stolen and used in this way makes me so mad. It's easy to make the issue sound simple by saying "artists are just scared because AI is better" but it's so much more than that.

I'm sorry you feel like you need to take my Aziraphale painting down. I can't help but feel the way i feel though. i hate AI as it is now but that doesn't mean i hate every single person who uses it. I'm sorry though. i wish i had something smarter to say and something to make you feel better :(

[loregoddess]

14, 15, 25 for the Love your fandom ask

14) the ship that always makes you smile Hmm, for long-running media, probably Midna x Link from LoZ:TP, bc that's basically the oldest ship in my fleet and it still brings me lots of joy. For mid-running media, probably Kay x Franziska for AA (my first rarepair), Rinea x Faye for FE:SoV (rarepair I wasn't expecting to see others ship), and Ashe x Dedue (literally got me to go out of my comfort zone to figure out how to draw cute ship art, when I was really bad and afraid of drawing people interacting). For stuff that I've gotten into over the past year, probably Alear x Pandreo from FE:Engage, and Mineru x Purah from LoZ:TotK (also I'm kinda silly goofy happy about Jin x Xiaoyu finally getting some development in Tekken 8, but that's bc I had to suffer watching it come to fruition over like, 20 years of my life, slowest goddamned slowburn I've ever had to endure).

15) the character that always makes you smile Oh, lots and lots. Long-running media would be Shad LoZ:TP, love that guy, I get excited anytime I see him. For mid-running, Satoru Hosonaga, my beloved from DGS/tGAA, a decent number of FE characters (Kurthnaga, Rhys, Libra, Flora, Lukas, Faye, Dedue, Ashe, and Ferdinand come to mind off the top of my head), most of the FF7 cast but esp. Red XIII/Nanaki. For more recent things, Alear and literally any of the Engage characters actually, the Octo2 crew (and also the Octo1 crew, and a fair amount of NPCs from both games); I also read Dungeon Meshi recently and I gotta say one of the most casts of all time, I haven't settled on favorites yet but damn were there some good characters.

25) a piece of advice for taking care of yourself in fandom spaces Block button is your bestie, don't feel bad for blocking people for any reason whatsoever so that you can peruse the fandom tag in peace. But also, if you find other fans who are making stuff you enjoy, support them by reblogging their art or headcanons or writing or whatever, or even just liking their stuff.

Do what you want to see in your fandom if you have the energy. I like to see people excited about things they love, whether that's a character or a ship or something about the story or their OCs or their own headcanons, like, doesn't even matter if it's not my Thing, I genuinely enjoy seeing people happy and brave enough to share that happiness in the main tag, so I try to also share stuff that brings me joy when I engage with fandom stuff too. Share joy when you can.

This is not to say you should never be negative ever like, you should also give yourself space somewhere to be a petty snob about things that tick you off. You don't have to make it public, but at the very least give yourself an outlet to let the negative move through and out of you. Believe me there are so many things that tick me off so much about either fandom spaces or various media that I could rant about for hours, but I just choose Not To Share It after I've written it out bc writing it often makes me feel better--or I go and find a trusted friend who I can be like, "Hey I gotta vent about something stupid real fast, will you hear me out?"

Lots of things in life are never all positive or negative feelings, but no emotion is inherently good or bad, so it's important to let yourself feel those emotions and let them pass without bottling them up. Otherwise they stagnate or explode, and neither is fun to deal with the aftermath for. But like, it's okay to be pissy about things from time to time.

Have fun, but never feel like you have to engage with a fandom just because you used to be a part of it, or you got into a new thing. I treat fandom like a public park, I can go there when I want to enjoy myself but I can also leave anytime I want. If a bunch of mean people are hanging around the park I know there are other parks, and I can just go to those instead and cultivate my own little garden to make up for the park I won't go to anymore. I might even get to invite some friends to that garden. Honestly, most of the time I'm some weird forest hermit who only comes out sometimes to haunt the park, and I think that's just fine as well. Engage with fandom in a way that makes you comfortable.

[sunbeamah]

Deleted Scene from Trouble in Tokyo #2

You can read the full fic here!

TIT deleted scenes 1 and 3

This is a completely scrapped scene, so the events in the fic are different, but I initially planned TIT to be a oneshot, so this was meant to be the meeting scene!

When Yuuji got a boyfriend, the entire Kusozu household was up in arms. 

“What’s his name?” Choso managed, playing it so cool. So, so cool.

Yuuji smiled widely, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. 

“Fushiguro Megumi.” Yuuji said. The amount of joy and awe he imbued into something as simple as his boyfriend’s name took Choso aback. But not too aback.

“Your friend from school?” Choso said. “I knew he looked at you weird…”

“Huh?” Yuuji said, looking a bit put-upon. 

“Anyway,” Choso said. “How long have you two been dating?”

“Hm? Just today! I know people probably wait to tell their family about a relationship, but I’m excited and it makes me happy– so I wanted to tell you straight away.” 

“Ass-kisser.” Sukuna scoffed.

“Don’t know if he’ll be the one doing the ass-kissing in that relationship.” Eso said. Sukuna snorted, and Kechizu bumped his head against Eso’s elbow to get into the conversation.

“I saw Fushiguro stare at his ass too!”

“What?!” 

-

And if that wasn't bad enough, Sukuna just had to go out that night and get drunk at a party.

Choso was fuming, Yuuji could see it in his eyes. But he was also really, really worried and that took priority over scolding Sukuna, who was obviously very distressed. 

Obviously very distressed because he was sobbing and crying real, actual tears as he clung to Yuuji and babbled absolute nonsense at him. 

“And I would never, ever kill you by ripping your heart out or cutting your head off or forcing you to eat all 20 of my fingers or—”

“I know, Suku-nii.” Yuuji said, looking resolutely ahead and wondering if it wasn’t just alcohol Sukuna had taken tonight. Choso would probably be the one asking him, if he weren't also crying because Sukuna was. This household...

“And I know it sounds fucking stupid but I don’t want you to get a boyfriend yet because you’re my twin and I only just got you, why should he take you away? And he’s not even good enough for you he’s a fucking wimp I could, honestly, I could fucking destroy him. And your boyfriend should- should be someone, should ask me if he can have you first! He never even asked me! And I would say no! And he never even payed— any— fucking— dowry!” Sukuna hiccuped violently between his slurred words.

Yuuji sighed long and hard.

"I know. Suku-nii."

"Y'know Uraume never paid us any dowry either and you're fine dating them." Kechizu said, using a makeup wipe to carefully wipe Sukuna's eyeliner off.

"I'm not dating Uraume!" Sukuna sobbed, sounding downright miserable.

"You could be." Yuuji snarked. It was the wrong thing to do, apparently, because seconds later Drunkuna was pushing him so hard he landed halfway across the room.

"Shut up! You don't know anything!"

"Yes I do!" Yuuji scoffed, glaring at him as he picked himself up. He rubbed his tailbone lightly. He just knew he was gonna have a bruise the size of his face there tomorrow.

"Are you alright, Yuuji?" Choso asked, leaving a glass of water with Sukuna before coming over to see if he could do anything, all the while wiping his own tears away.

"Yeah, I— oof!"

Yuuji was cut off by a sudden tackle from Drunkuna. For a second, he thought his twin was picking a fight, so he geared himself up to throw him off and pay him back for the bruise— but the hits never came.

Instead, Sukuna was sobbing again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you..." He cried.

Yuuji sighed.

"Yeah, yeah, you big baby." He muttered.

"Smile!"

"What—"

And before he could react or try to stop him, Eso was taking a picture and immortalising the moment.

Even though it would 100% be at the expense of Sukuna over him, Yuuji couldn't bring himself to feel any of the mischievous joy he usually would at the thought of embarrassing his twin. Instead, he wondered, not for the first time, what exactly he'd gotten himself into.

"Let's get him to play Fortnite next!" Eso said, hurrying over to the TV.

What indeed.

[silvfyre-writings]

Never Give Up (Pokemon Fanfic)

I just finished Scarlet the other day, and I adore Grusha, and the small amount of backstory we got gave me the idea to write this fic! This is my first Pokemon fic, so it was rather terrifying to write, but hey, that's what writings all about sometimes.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy and feel free to leave a like (hell even reblog) if you enjoyed!!!

Pain.

Agony.

Fear.

Those were the three emotions running through Grusha’s mind as he lay, twisted and broken on the slope, half buried in snow, with the world slowly fading in and out. He struggled to recall what had led him to his current predicament; only a vague recollection of a Pokémon jumping out of the snow suddenly, and him trying to avoid colliding with it. He’d succeeded, because he wasn’t one of the top snowboarders for no reason, but something had gone wrong. The moment that he’d flung his board into a different direction, something in his leg snapped, and he was falling down the slope rather than sliding, pain shooting up his body each time his leg was jostled.

“Grusha, don’t move.” There was a hand on Grusha’s shoulder, the touch briefly taking his mind off the pain, the voice bringing him back from the brink of unconsciousness. He couldn’t tell who the hand, or the voice that had come with the hand, belonged to. But if they were telling him not to move, then it was probably wise to listen to them. He was hurting enough. “That’s it, kiddo. Can you open your eyes for me?”

Grusha could open his eyes, but he didn’t want to open them. The slightest movement brought pain, and he didn’t want to risk doing anything, especially now that the sharp, shooting pain had become more of an ache. A very prominent ache, but he’d take whatever he could get at this point. Instead, he grunted, to show the person that he could hear them.

But that wasn’t acceptable for the person talking to him, for a finger tapped his cheek. “Nah, that ain’t gonna cut it. Open them eyes for me, Grusha. You crashed bad. We need to make sure you didn’t hit your head.”

Grusha groaned, cracking one eye open, only to close it as he was assaulted by sunlight. In that moment, he forgot about the fact that he was hurt, and moved to bury his face into the snow, crying out when the movement jostled his leg, bringing back the pain that had just started to ease off. Nausea swelled within him, and he fought against the urge to bring up his lunch, breathing deeply until he could focus on something else other than pain.

And finally, he could open his eyes.

Now that he wasn’t looking directly into the sun, Grusha was able to see more of his surroundings, even though it was mostly snow. There were shadows above him—people that had come to his aid, and he recognized the familiar face of Ryme, Montenevera’s Gym Leader. The older woman had been one of his biggest supporters since he’d first gone pro, going to all his competitions when her obligations allowed her to. It was the joy—or frustration, Grusha didn’t yet know—of living in the lonely town at the top of one of Paldea’s mountains; everyone knew each other.

So it made sense why she was the one stopping him from moving. Ryme’s face, slowly wrinkling in her age, flashed him a smile. “There’s those eyes I was wanting to see.”

“Wha’ happen’…” Grusha asked. “There was… a Pokémon?”

“There was a Cetoddle in the snow. Something must’ve spooked it for it to have been hiding there.” Ryme explained. It was weird to hear the Gym Leader speaking so calmly for a change, instead of being so full of the usual excitement Grusha had seen in her battles. He didn’t like it.

“Oh.”

“You did good avoiding the little fella though. It didn’t get hurt, and you’ll soon be taken care of yourself. So don’t stress, and try to get some rest. The medics are on the way.”

Grusha nodded, able to hear for himself the sound of medics flying down the slope towards him. He’d seen it so many times over the years for other competitors, but never had they come for him. Until now. And that terrified him, because every snowboarder knew they only came out if you couldn’t get back up, and most of the time, those people never competed again. Tears welled in his eyes at the thought of his career ending before it had even truly begun, but he fought them back. Just because he’d been hurt, didn’t mean that it was the end of the world. Not yet anyway. He’d wait for a doctor to tell him how hurt he was before breaking down. For now, it was best to cling to hope, and hope that he’d be back on the slope in a few weeks—a few months at the latest.

“Mr Grusha, can you hear us?” Grusha looked over towards his left—as much as he could at least from his position—seeing the medics crouched beside him. He nodded. “Great, we’re going to try and get you out of here with as minimal pain as possible, but with the position you’re in, you’ll probably feel something.”

“Okay.” Grusha nodded again, tuning out the medics discussing how they were going to move him. He didn’t care, so long as he got off the slope.

But then they began to move him, and white-hot, searing pain shot up his leg, and Grusha found himself unable to hold back the cries of pain, or the tears that began to fall as a result. The world began to swirl around him again, voices muffling to the point he didn’t know if they were soothing or panicked. The one constant was Ryme’s hand on his shoulder, but not even that was enough to keep him tethered to the world of wakefulness. The darkness that was slowly encroaching upon him promised no more pain, no more agony.

So Grusha let it take him.

He could deal with the pain later.

“I’m sorry, Mr Grusha, but the damage to your leg is extensive. The surgery I suggested is to help you walk again, not get you back on a snowboard. I’m afraid with your kind of injury, snowboarding is no longer possible. I’m sorry it’s not the news you wanted to hear.” The doctor said, giving Grusha a look of pity he did not want.

Grusha turned his head away from the doctor, his eyes focusing on the bandages that prevented his leg from moving. Of course, the one time in his entire career that he crashes, it’s a career ending injury; but also, it’s the kind of injury that would affect his day-to-day life. It was the kind of injury that one would never wish upon someone, not even someone’s worst enemy. If only he hadn’t swerved to avoid that Cetoddle. If only he’d been a better boarder, because surely it wasn’t that hard to avoid a Pokémon?

“Mr Grusha?” He was torn from his melancholy by the doctor talking to him, who Grusha hadn’t been listening to if the doctor’s impatient tone was anything to go by.

“What?” Grusha snapped, lifting his gaze to glare at the doctor. Was it too much to ask for him to be given some time to process everything he’d been told?

The doctor sighed. “Will you go through with the surgery?”

“No. Why bother? Just leave me alone.” Grusha watched the doctor nod and then leave the room, promising to come back later. Only once the door was shut, did he let everything out. Tears that he’d been holding back ever since he’d woken up in the hospital, finally broke free and ran down his cheeks. Sobs tried to escape him, but he bit his lip to keep those to himself. The hospital staff and other patients didn’t need to hear him breaking. They had more important things to worry about, patients that were actually dying and in actual need. They didn’t need to worry about the athlete with a busted leg whose world had just ended.

The door opened again, and Grusha’s coach walked into the room, already chattering away about what they were going to tell his fans, what they were going to tell the world—at least that’s what Grusha thought the man was saying. It was hard to tell. He wasn’t able to focus on the words at all, instead staring blankly at the person in front of him. All his mind could focus on was his leg, and the accident that had led him to this situation.

“Please leave.” Grusha interrupted his coach. And while he’d normally feel bad about doing so, considering the man had been with him from the start, but he just wasn’t ready to deal with other people.

His coach frowned, looking rather concerned. “Grusha, it’s not the end the world. You—”

“Not the end of the world? Not the end of the world?” Grusha threw himself upright as far as he was able to, anger bubbling to the surface at the words that might’ve placated anyone else in that moment. But not Grusha. No, those words fuelled his anger, because his world had ended. He couldn’t be a snowboarder without his leg, it didn’t take a genius to figure that out. “It’s the end of my world! I’m never going to stand on a board again. What am I without my snowboard? I’m nothing, that’s what!”

“Grusha—”

“No! Just get out! Leave me alone! I’m not doing any media, or surgery, or whatever it is you think I should do!” Grusha yelled.

“Is there a problem?” Grusha stiffened as Ryme appeared in the doorway, glancing between Grusha and his coach. Understanding dawned on the elderly woman’s face, and she jerked her head towards the doorway behind her. “Out.”

Grusha watched his coach open his mouth to say something before the man gave up, storming out of the room with a big huff. Grusha fell back against his pillow with a huff of his own. “What are you doing here?”

Ryme made her way over to the lone chair in the room, dragging it over so that she could sit beside Grusha’s bed. “Heard ya yellin’ in the hallway, and thought I’d come see what the fuss was all about. That ya coach?”

“Yeah.” Grusha shrugged. “You can leave too. Don’t need to stay for me.”

“Now that’s a stupid idea if I ever heard one.” Ryme stretched in the chair, kicking her feet up onto the edge of the bed. It didn’t look at all comfortable, but he wasn’t about to say anything. If Ryme wanted to ruin her back by sitting stupidly in a chair, then he wasn’t about to stop her.

“Please go.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Grusha squeezed his eyes shut, annoyed that the Gym Leader was ruining the time he’d wanted to spend alone, pondering over everything. But it was clear that Ryme was here to stay; the woman wasn’t known for taking ‘no’ as an answer.

“Because.” Ryme said. “You’ve been cooped up in this room on your lonesome since you arrived—so I’ve heard, and you look like you’ve been told someone died. And now, I’m not your mother, nor am I your friend, but I am a familiar stranger, so if you wanna say something, then hit me with it.”

Grusha sighed and stared at the ceiling for a couple of minutes while Ryme sat there, patiently waiting for him to find his words. “I can’t snowboard anymore.”

“The doctor tell you that?”

Grusha nodded.

“What else did he say?” Ryme asked.

“Surgery can help repair the damage, but it’s not going to help me get back on a board. It’s just to help me walk again, apparently.” Grusha paused for a moment. “But I’m not going to do it.”

“You should. They wouldn’t recommend it if it wasn’t going to help you in the long run.”

“Why? I can’t snowboard again, so why even bother?”

“Believe it or not, Grusha, your career as a professional snowboarder might be over, but that doesn’t mean you’ll never snowboard again.” Ryme began to say.

“Wha—” Grusha went to ask, only to be interrupted.

“Uh, uh, uh, let me finish. You got hurt. The injury is bad. Your career is over. None of those things mean you can’t pick up a board again once you recover and ease back into it. Who knows, maybe you’ll be able to be a pro again?” Ryme said with one of her famous all-knowing smiles on her face. “Get the surgery, Grusha, recover from it, and fight for your dream. Don’t give it up yet until you know for sure you have to.”

“Fine.”

Fine, what?”

“I’ll get the god damn surgery.”

“Good kid.”

Why me? Why must I have the worst luck in the world?  Grusha thought as he lay in his bed, his leg once again wrapped—in a brace rather than bandages this time—with an ice pack balancing on it to ease the ache that had been throbbing for well over an hour now. He wanted nothing more than to go back in time and stop his injury from even happening in the first place.

For months, he’d put all his effort into his recovery. He’d gotten the surgery like Ryme had suggested, and he’d forced his way through the physical therapy that had followed, something the woman and doctors had neglected to mention until a nurse had come to collect him for it. It had been the hardest months of his life, and the most painful—even more so than the initial injury in his opinion.

But finally.

Finally.

He’d been able to walk out of that hospital with only a minor limp. That had left him feeling both relieved and excited for the next step; getting back on the board. Despite his doctors giving him a clean bill of health, Grusha had stayed away from the slopes for a few more months, wanting to give his leg the time it needed. Recovery took time, something that everyone told him whenever he wanted to go about things faster. And then one day, he’d felt ready, ready to try the slope again. Nothing too crazy, of course, but just getting on the board and going down the easiest slope of the mountain, had been his plan.

So, of course it had gone wrong.

Grusha had turned, a simple turn that he’d long since mastered, but that turn was all it took for his leg to buckle underneath him with a loud popping noise, and send him careening down the slope. This crash hadn’t been as bad as the one that had caused his initial injury since the slope was designed for children and beginners, but it was still bad enough that he knew moving his leg was a bad idea. It certainly hadn’t been as painful as last time, but it was still painful. The only positive to that day had been that there were other boarders on the slope, and those strangers had stuck with him until he’d been taken back to hospital.

Where he’d had to have another surgery, with an even longer recovery period. And this time, his doctor had told him none too gently, that snowboarding of any kind was out of the question, lest he risk doing more damage to his already battered leg. Which Grusha already knew; his leg could barely support him this time round, even after the surgery, so there was no hope of him ever getting back on a board.

Ryme had tried to see him, as had his coach, but Grusha had refused all visitors. He hadn’t wanted anyone to see how broken he was on the inside. And once the hospital had discharged him and he’d made his way home, that hadn’t changed. His friends and fans kept trying to reach out to him, sending him ‘get well soon’ messages, but Grusha couldn’t care less about them. He couldn’t bring himself to care much about anything other than making sure that he always had an icepack on hand for his leg when the pain got too much to handle.

His life had become a meaningless routine now; wake up, eat, get out of bed, go back to bed, take meds, and sleep. For days that was how Grusha lived—if one could even call it living. Until the one day, where he’d felt well enough to get up and drag his television from the living room into his bedroom, that his routine was interrupted.

“Grusha! I’m coming in!” Grusha groaned as he heard his front door open, and Ryme’s voice echo throughout his home. He didn’t even know how the woman had gotten into his home, nor did he really want to. Either way, he was changing his locks.

“Are you sure we should just be invading his space like this?” A stranger’s voice, one that Grusha had never even heard before, questioned the Gym Leader that was currently invading his home.

“Relax, it’s the benefits of a small town. And I know he’s here. Kid hasn’t left his house since he was discharged.” Grusha heard Ryme say, the footsteps growing ever closer to his room. And because he knew that Ryme wouldn’t stop until she’d found him. “Ha! I told you he’d be here!”

Low and behold, there the woman was, standing in the doorway looking like she hadn’t just broken into his home. Behind the Gym Leader was a shorter woman… man, Grusha couldn’t really tell at first glance. Not that he even cared. “Get out.”

“No can do, kiddo.” Ryme grinned at him, which just made Grusha’s mood even worse. “Relax, I’m here on Gym Leader business.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Grusha huffed. “Just leave me be.”

“Wow, you are a delight.” The stranger said, stepping forward with an intrigued look on her face. “When Ryme told us about a potential replacement for Glaseado Gym, I wasn’t expecting to meet Paldea’s champion snowboarder.”

“What?” Grusha was confused. Glaseado Gym? Replacement? He wasn’t a Pokémon trainer; he didn’t even have any Pokémon to call his own. He was—he had—been a professional athlete. There hadn’t been time in his life for him to even consider training up Pokémon to have by his side. And Ryme wanted him to become a Gym Leader? This had to be some kind of joke. “If this is some kind of sick joke, just get out.”

“Calm down, will you?” The stranger, a woman, Grusha realized now that she was standing closer to him. “My name’s Rika. I’m a member of Paldea’s Elite Four. Normally, Geeta, the Champion, would be the one to do this, but she’s busy with other work, so she sent me to come check you out instead. The current Gym Leader of Glaseado is looking to retire, and Ryme recommended you.”

“Why?” Grusha asked. Why him, of all people? Surely there were other people, actual Pokémon trainers, that would be better suited to the position of Gym Leader.

Ryme let out a sigh, her smile dropping just the tiniest bit as she glanced towards his leg. “Because, Grusha, your world’s been turned on its head, and not in a good way. I simply wanted to offer you something that might be able to ease that pain.”

“But… I’m not a Pokémon trainer.”

“Glaseado’s Gym Leader isn’t retiring just yet, so you’ll have time to gain the skills necessary to take over.” Rika explained.

“And you can start with this little guy!” Ryme pulled out a Poké Ball and released the Pokémon within it.

It was a Cetoddle.

“Is that…?”

“The same Cetoddle that caused your accident? No. At least, I don’t think so. I caught it on my way over here. It’ll be a good first partner for you.” The smile had returned to Ryme’s face, and she reached over to place the ball into Grusha’s hand. “I’ll leave you to think about it.”

The door shut behind the Gym Leader, and now it was just him and Rika, the silence that followed a rather awkward one. Grusha didn’t know why the Elite Four member was sticking around; it wasn’t like they knew each other. Instead, Grusha turned his attention towards the Cetoddle that was staring at him with its large eyes. The Pokémon blinked, before giving him a toothy grin. It was cute, and Grusha couldn’t help but smile and reach over to pet it.

“Here.” Grusha looked up to see Rika holding out some kind of blue stone towards him. “Cetoddle evolves using an ice stone, so if you choose to take up our offer and train up this little guy, use that stone to evolve him. He’ll become even stronger.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“You should do it. Become a Gym Leader I mean.” Rika went on. “I’ve seen your competitions; you have the passion we’re looking for. And, you know, just because you got a busted leg, doesn’t mean you have to give up on living.”

Grusha threw his harshest glare towards the woman. “If that’s all you’re going to talk about, get out. You don’t know me.”

“You’re right. I don’t. But what I do know, is that there is a part of you that doesn’t want to give up just yet.” Rika shrugged, turning to leave the room. “Anyway, nice to meet you, Grusha.”

Grusha let out a sigh as the door shut behind Rika, leaving him alone with his new Pokémon companion. Cetoddle chirped at him, reaching its arms up towards him. He leaned over and helped the Pokémon climb onto his bed, and couldn’t help but smile as it lay down beside him. Ryme was right about one thing at least; Cetoddle would make a good first partner. It lived in the harsh, snowy regions of Paldea, which already meant that it was strong. And like his coach always used to say; training made you stronger, so together, he and this little Pokémon might just actually become something.

Was it what he wanted to do? No. If he physically could’ve, he would’ve stuck with snowboarding. Nothing, not even Pokémon could make him ever give up the sport. But because of his injury, he’d had to give up the sport he’d loved since he was old enough to stand on a board, and that was just something he was going to have to learn to live with. It sucked, and it wasn’t fair, but life wasn’t always fair.

Rika was right; he did have the passion to find something else in his life, he just had to take the first step towards it. “Come on, buddy.” Grusha recalled the Cetoddle to its ball, and dragged himself out of bed. He limped as fast as he could across the room, making his way out of his house for the first time in over a week. Grusha shivered as the cold assaulted him; his indoor clothing not suited for the cold wind. His eyes were quick to spot Rika and Ryme heading back the way they’d come, and Grusha hurried to catch up with them.

“I’ll do it!” Grusha shouted, drawing the attention of the two women. “I’ll become the next Gym Leader!”

[r6-unifiedlands]

A Random Sunshine Encounter

[Remington "Espion" Harmonics & Julien "Rook" Nizan]

Summary: It's finally Espion's first visit to Viperstrike's base to get her gadgets improved! But Mira's not the only one overseeing her.

A/N: I promised myself that I wouldn't write above 1k today

When she entered Rainbow’s Greece Base, Reth noticed that Viperstrike’s base was surprisingly more high-tech than the other groups' tech labs. It’s not really that surprising for her, though. Many of Rainbow’s engineers and technicians came in and out to develop and research more technologies to make future operations easier.

Mira had ordered her to bring in her gadgets—Her motion-detecting knives that had been fucked up by a Certain Japanese Geek during the device evaluation—to look for a solution to the fragile casing.

…she couldn’t help marveling at the inner lab. It felt like she was again back in her old workshop in Nighthaven.

Before the young operator managed to get her grubby hands all over the pieces of machinery, however, she felt a pair of gloved hands grab her shoulder firmly and put enough pressure downwards to stop her from moving around.

“Wha—”

“Enchanté, Espion!” The figure looming over her suddenly spoke in a cheery tone. His light French accent reminded him of Gustave’s existence, making her head snap upwards to see who that was.

Messy dark chocolate hair in undercut style, five o’clock shadow on his well-defined jawline, dark blue eyes that sparkled like an excited golden retriever, and a smile that could bring joy and warmth to this cruel and cold world.

Oh, Jesus Christ, that’s a handsome man.

Maybe it was because the room was too cold or she suddenly developed a fever, but one of them was definitely the reason why her face reddened like crazy with nervous soft chitters coming out of her lips. Both palms tried to hide her current state.

The man was absolutely beaming, patting her light blonde hair while pulling her close to his tall body. “Mira told me that you’ll be joining us today, so I asked her to help assist you.” His tone was as bright as his personality. “My name is Julien Nizan, but you can call me Rook. I hope we can be good acquaintances!”

It didn’t help that her brain was short-circuited from the overwhelming amount of affection that he gave her, still struggling to say something.

He finally let her go after a while, finally snapping her from the overloading mind state. She almost immediately took multiple steps away, her face still looking bright red.

The sunshine expression faded slightly, eyes reflecting a sense of worry. “Sorry, did I overwhelm you?”

As much as she wanted to deny it, she did feel overwhelmed by his whole greetings.

And as Harry said during her last therapy session; be honest with people, or they will not know what their mistakes are.

She nodded slowly, avoiding eye contact. “...Sorry…” She muttered softly.

“It’s alright, mon ami.” Julien didn’t move an inch while keeping his warm tone, like a vet talking to a scared animal. “Take your time, okay? I can get Mira or Doc for you if you’d like.”

“It’s.” She paused, taking several deep breaths. Calm down, Reth. “I’m okay. I was just. Surprised. I’m no good to affection.” Her voice softened, now more like a whisper. “Gustave is scary. Don’t want to see him.”

“He’s a doctor. He’d take care of you.”

“Last time I saw him, he scolded me for being too rough in training and kept escaping his clinic while in his care.”

The taller operator grinned. “You’re not the only one.” He gave a wink that made the younger operator’s heart jump to her throat.

What the fuck. Oh my god. She shouldn’t be like this!!!

Reth whined out loud. Her frustration came out. Not because of the kind gent, no.

There’s a first time for everything. And it was the first time she felt like there were butterflies in her stomach, tickling her abdomen and trying to make her smile.

Julien’s happiness was infectious. 

Currently, it’s infecting the young operator.

“Stop making me happy!!” She whined in protest, but her giggling state betrayed her.

“I can’t help it! Ton sourire est contagieux!”

The French accent that she’d once associated with Gustave’s fatherly scolding now made her heart thump like crazy. Julien’s bright and positive attitude cleared out the negative association of what had been imprinted in her mind.

Was that a bad thing? Nope!

“And what are you guys doing?”

Those fluffy feelings sunk back into the depths and managed to snap Reth out of the current state. Her cheeks were still tinted red from the blood rush.

Elena leaned on the doorframe of the lab entrance while crossing her arms, dark eyes glaring at Julien. “What did you do to our new recruit, cabrón? She’s a tomato now!”

Now it’s the French’s turn to be flustered, cheeks dusted in pink. “Non! I was introducing myself and accidentally got her overwhelmed a bit.”

The Spaniard turned her attention to Reth, raising her eyebrows. The American quickly nodded in response.

“Well,” Elena cracked her knuckles, and satisfying pops came out, “introduction’s over. Let’s get back to work, you two.”

[inkabelledesigns]

Can't believe it's almost the end of July. I still have a small number of pieces I want to do before art fight is over, and we will hopefully get there. But even if not, can I just say, I'm really proud of myself? I've never done art fight before this year, and I have improved as not just an artist, but as a person. My goal was to get better at doing traditional line art, and mission accomplished! I've gotten so many kind words about my line weights looking great, and that means a lot.

But also, I've started to untangle some of my complicated feelings about drawing for others. I've been in so many groups over the years where art (and the people who make it) was something transactional, where if you had something made for you, you were expected to make something back, at the same quality or higher, and it was this huge obligation. Alternatively, if you drew for one person, you were expected to draw for everyone you were friends with, and that weighed on me a lot. None of that is healthy. I don't like feeling like I owe people, in art or in any other circumstance. I've discovered over the years that I barely have the energy to create for myself sometimes, and I just, can't make stuff for everyone, not enough hours in the day. So it was easier to never draw for anyone ever, even when I wanted to, that way no one could be disappointed, but even that's fruitless and untrue. There has always been someone that's felt entitled to my art and time, even when I didn't give that part of myself to anyone.

The reason I could do as much for this month as I did is because I put down some very reasonable guidelines for myself: only line art so I didn't burn myself out, not working on other art forms so my focus was in one place (save for voice acting because I owed people lines), all traditional because I was gonna be traveling, grabbing references beforehand so I had a clear idea of everything I wanted to draw. I was prepared, I was kind to myself, and it was good. And I've let myself draw what I want to draw, that was the big one. This was a gift that I was allowed to give freely, on my terms. And ultimately, that's what's made it rewarding. The people I've chosen to draw for have been so excited over what I've made for them, and it's left me feeling like I did a good job. I MISSED the feeling of bringing someone joy over something unexpected. It's why I purposely told no one I was making something for them, so it could be a pleasant surprise. It leaves me feeling really good, and I get the sense it's the same on the other side too. And the amount of feelings I've gotten over the art I've received are through the roof. I read every description, thank you for saying such nice things about my character designs, it makes me so warm and fuzzy to know that you enjoy what I've made enough to want to play with it on your own, that is a massive compliment! I spent a lot of my life never being told that I did a good job with my art or characters, so getting to hear it a lot this month has made me happy. Everyone's pieces have been rotated in and out as my backgrounds on my phone and laptop all month, I love turning them on and seeing all the love that went into this art. Everything is so beautiful!

It's not about the points or who wins, I'm here for seeing people light up. I'm here for celebrating fun character designs. And I'm so glad I did this. I'm crying because I didn't think I'd ever be ABLE to do this. But I was, and it's been great. Now -twirls pencil- we have some work to do!

[browneyes-issac]

Hellosss everyone!! 💞👋

I just wanted to pop in and say a lil something something...

First off, happy new yearrr!!!! 🥳 I have a really good feeling this year is gonna be freaking awesome! The amount of new Pedro content is just ahhh I got no words I'm so excited!! 🥰

Second... I just wanted to tell you all thank you for making my 2022 really amazing. This is the first fandom ( out of the ones I've been active in, anyway. ) that I've felt completely safe in and I just all around love this fandom the mostest out all I've been apart off.

Lost of firsts happened. I started reading fan fics, I started writing fics, and I over all have been more confident in expressing myself and not caring what others think. I see you all being so amazing and brave, so I really think it has helped with doing the same. So thank you x infinity. 😘

Anddddd! I know I always say it... But every single one of you, even ones I have not met yet.. You truly are breathtaking badass writers!!!! The work you put in is 🤯😍, will never not be mind blown by how real and beautiful it is. 💞

Weather we talk in dms or reblogs/asks, I consider all of you family. The joy it brings me seeing your reactions to my crazy goofiness is always gonna be unmatched. Because I've always felt when the flood gates open, people get irritated or annoyed with me... So it truly means the world to me. 🥰 ( ps, this is not me saying you gotta react to my reblogs of your stuff, I'm just saying it makes me happy, lol. 💞 )

I love you all x infinity and beyond, alwayssss! 💞♾️😘

Ps, I know I'm slacking so so bad on reading... But I've been in a very odd funk once I get home from work... So I either crash or zone out on watching something.. But I'm gonna try to get back this week on Thursday and the weekend, since I'm off. 🤞

Pss. I am always here for anything ya ever need. I may take a bit to answer, but it'll always be in the same day and I will answer no matter what. 💞😘

Tagging the beautiful people that have made my year and will continue ever year as long as I stay on this crazy app/site~~~~~

@stxrrylunatic @supernaturalgirl20 @guess-my-next-obsession @grogusmum @heythere-mel @prolix-yuy @fuckyeahdindjarin @mandoblowmybackout @icanbeyourjedi @astroboots @alwayslurkinginthebackground @kteague @chaoticgeminate @ezrasbirdie

[phdmama]

What are your overall thoughts on Buddie going canon? I went back and rewatched the kitchen scene and from what I know happens in future seasons, I kinda feel like there’s no way they can explain their relationship as purely platonic. They’re giving stucky “inseparable on and off the battlefield” and “til the end of the line” vibes.

As someone who was deep in both the sterek and stucky fandoms, I have way more hope for these two than I did the others. My partner watches more casually than I do (I give updates if I’ve watched during work, or while he’s out etc etc) and he’s even wondering.

This show proves that it’s more open with queer side characters and Hen, etc. so idk. Maybe I’m getting too excited bc I’m not even caught up, but I have hope!!

I mean, first and foremost, I'm very much of the "everyone should think whatever brings you joy etc etc" opinionI and I'm also like, old, which I think gives me a different perspective maybe, having seen the whole evolution of how queer people are included (or not) in mainstream media (like I was watching when Ellen came out sort of old).

One of the things I really love about 911 is that there are a lot of different kinds of people and really diverse stories and I love that! I also think they're doing really interesting stuff with gender expression and masculinity and love in its many different forms, which again. I just love.

As for it going canon... I know there are people who are absolutely sure it's going to happen, and mine is, I am pretty sure, an UO, but I am not convinced. In part, I don't want to dive into really expecting it as a canon thing because I don't love to invest a huge amount of emotional energy in something over which I have zero control! Like, it's going to be what it's going to be, and I'm really enjoying the ride as it all unfolds!! This is like, entirely unlike me?? I don't generally enjoy sitting in the unknown. I think I'm just wary about getting my hopes up.

Like I absolutely see those signs - and I do think it's possible! Their chemistry is so real, and their connection and relationship so palpable. There's stuff that I think is fan service but there's a lot of other big stuff that I really think is genuinely moving in this direction. Will it happen? I dunno!

Selfishly, I'd absolutely love to see a story of two men in their 30s figuring out their own bisexuality. That to me would be a fascinating, powerful, and original story. We already have had the exact storyline of a man coming out as gay while married, and I'm not personally all that interested in revisiting that particular narrative again, if that makes sense!

So all that to say, I think there's a very strong case to be made for the writers moving in the canon direction, but I don't personally have my hopes that high, just given that it's a mass media corporate entertainment production. Clearly, they're very cool with queer characters, and it would be an amazing and original story but... you know.

For now, I'm very content to watch it all unfold, and enjoy the canon that is being created right in front of me!

[monochromaticbutter]

do you think ptj will do jaeyeol/jay’s character any justice? 🥲 i’ve read so many comments on reddit saying that ptj will just throw jay away because he’s served his purpose (attracting a large enough fanbase through queer-baiting) because jay’s potential to be a great character is just going down the drain (he’s the son of steve hong, he should he able to step in and help right? also big daniel is kidnapped and jay used to have such a strong “daniel is in trouble i gotta go help him” sensor so where tf is he?)

okay, but excluding all that, i think jay should be developed further as a character because he has so much potential that’s being wasted so far. i really hope ptj hasn’t forgotten about him and pulls an eli jang arc for jay because he’s super interesting to me, like i wanna know why he doesn’t talk, why he isn’t acknowledged by his family (?), where tf is he when all this is going down, what does he do in his free time, what are his likes (besides daniel lol)??? i just want to know more about him as a person IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK PTJ???

ahem, sorry for the rant, i just caught up to the latest chapter and i am FUMING because the last time we saw jay was in chapter 300+ and he wasn’t even that prominent in the chapter? i just miss when all we had to care about was daniel having to hide his 2 bodies from people, crystal being a snoop, jay and joy fighting over the same man, zack and mira’s relationship, zoe’s inner conflict not knowing she likes the very same person, etc. like what’s with all these new characters i do not give a single shit about? i loved the hostel chapters though but once they got to the worker’s arc, man…. pls just bring the original cast back.. this story is getting too much man..

so what do you think? 🥲😅😔

Thanks for the ask! This is the first one I receive so I got a bit excited <3 Apologies for the big reply!

About Jay's character potential, yes. That boy has so much potential. So many things have been implied with those little scenes he appears in, like when his dad said explicitly he doesn't want to talk to him anymore, or how lonely he's portrayed as. PTJ isn't new to inserting social issues into Lookism (bullying, poverty, exploration of workers, sexual assault, etc), so I have a strong belief that his story has a theme of homophobia, somehow, somewhere.

I'd be perfectly fine if his feelings for Daniel/Hyungseok were completely unrequited and he was just a character that happens to be gay and have a crush on him, while still having a proper development. Many people think it's either being gay or being well developed, as if gay crushes can't be simple and trivial like straight crushes. PTJ has all the pieces needed to do that (if he doesn't want to bother making them canon), the stage is flawlessly set; I'd say the reader is even led to believe something about Jay's past will appear Soon™️ after his dad shows up.

Nothing happens, though. Jay is gone for more than a hundred chapters, except the one time he appears in one panel soon before Jiho's last arc. So being honest, as much as I like to be positive, I have the same fear as these redditors.

I fear even worse, in actuality. There's a chance that, if he wants to bring Jay back and keep queerbaiting, he can simply make a big reveal at the end of him being Daniel/Hyungseok's lost brother or something. This thought is so absurdly cursed that it only occured to me after 5 years of reading Lookism. I cannot even begin to explain the immense amount of disgust I'd feel if that happened.

But at the same time, PTJ is one of those types of authors whose intentions I just can't understand. See, from the beginning of everything to about the end of Olly's arc, it does seem that he has a strong grasp on character arcs and can balance comic relief situations well with serious development. Most of the original cast proved to be much more than their looks or became less appearance-focused (which I thought was the point of the webtoon until recently... but that's a rant for another post)...

After that, everything kinda started to go downhill. I pretty much entirely agree with your point about Worker's arc. For a while, I tolerated the massive amount of new characters and said to myself, "It's just to expand on the story's universe, soon things will go back to normal". But they didn't. 100+ chapters later, I can only remember two occurances that took me out of complete boredom while reading: Jace/Bumjae being defeated and forcefully tattoed by that guy (1) and Daniel/Hyungseok being caught and tortured in a way that cut the connections between his two bodies (2).

And those two occurances are what keeps me going and having hope. Somewhere among the clown fiesta of new characters and 1v1 spam, it seems that PTJ still knows how to write character development.

I wouldn't say I'm putting all my faith in him, it's more like, I know I can't do anything about it, he's pretty much unreachable for me (other than me being a nobody in comparison, I don't use the same social media as him), so I'll do the same thing I did last year: when it begins to be too much, I stop reading weekly and let the chapters pile up. You could say I'm just hoping for the best and you'd be right, that's my main way of coping with possible queerbaiting in fiction LOL

In addition, the anime has been a light at the end of the tunnel. Jay has significantly more screentime than in the beginning of the manhwa, if I remember correctly. This might sound like a loose guess, but... If PTJ planned on scrapping Jay's role completely, he would know how upset that'd make the fans; wouldn't it be easier on him to ask the show's writers to not give as much fanservice in the anime, to prevent further headaches...?

I don't know, maybe he wasn't even allowed to request changes and left everything in the hands of the writers. Sometimes, it frustrates me to have so little knowledge about the behind the scenes of Lookism...

Overall, I'll keep writing based on my interpretation of him and the original cast, at least until some major lore bombs drop and my perception of them changes. For me, despite being well off, Jay still feels lonely and shy, both from introversion and fearing homophobia; and despite being a Cool Lone Wolf in the perspective of others, he's a complete goofball who (canonically) fears insects and dogs.

Side note: I feel less alone knowing I'm not the only one who's unsatisfied with the way the original cast is being treated + the direction the webtoon is taking. Hoping for a better future...